


Heartbreak Hotel

by overthehill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with (hopefully) happy ending, Cause it sorta just turned out that way, Episode Related, Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Established Relationship, Infidelity, Kinda Stiles!Centric, M/M, Mentions of suicide (but only just barely), Original Character(s), Other people were writing it and I just couldn't help myself?, Sterek!Endgame, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:38:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overthehill/pseuds/overthehill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale was alive. Stiles was so excited to hear the news that he rushed over to the loft the second he was back in Beacon Hills.</p><p>What he finds at the loft makes him wish Derek had just died in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>  <i><b>Update:</b> Chapter 10 posted</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deliriumtrigger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumtrigger/gifts).



> This episode gave me lots of feels. I like Ms. Blake, I think she's adorable...but too much like Stiles sometimes that it also bothers me. 
> 
> Anyways...this little ficlet (that's really no longer a ficlet) is short but it demanded to be written :)
> 
> \--
> 
> For my awesome brain twin. Everyone needs a bit of angst to cheer them up.

It hurt. 

Stiles felt as if his heart was being torn in two as he stood there taking in the scene before him. There was Derek laying in bed, naked, and next to him was an equally as naked Ms. Blake. Derek was in bed with his English teacher. Stiles wanted to...laugh, cry, throw something. He did none of those things, instead he slowly backed out of the loft, leaving the door wide open behind him.

\---

Derek stared at the open door for a few seconds, eyes unblinking. He then turned to look down at the still sleeping woman lying beside him and a sense of horror began to fill his entire being. 

Jennifer Blake was in his bed. 

Stiles was just there...and now he's not.

Jennifer Blake was in his bed and Stiles saw.

Stiles caught him in bed with Jennifer, Stiles' English teacher.

The only noise Derek could hear was the dull roaring of his own mind screaming at him and the only thing he could feel was numbness. He'd done something so very stupid, and despite this not being the first time (and doubtfully his last), this was most definitely the one with the greatest consequences. 

Jumping out of bed, Derek quickly pulled on his jeans and whatever shirt he had lying around before running out the door, barefoot.

He ran with all his might, pushing himself to be faster. Faster. Faster. Desperately hoping he could catch Stiles and just _explain_ , but he was too late. By the time the bare soles of his feet hit the gritty cement of the parking lot, Stiles and his blue jeep was gone.

Throwing his head back, Derek let out a loud, despairing, howl, eyes shifting from hazel to red and back to hazel again. 

\---

Upon hearing the heart wrenching howl, Stiles' first reaction was to turn the jeep around and head back to Derek's loft. Back to the warm embrace of Derek's arms.

However, just thinking about the alpha brought forth the image of Derek entwined with Ms. Blake, and Stiles immediately felt another waved of pain squeezing his heart. Resolute, Stiles gripped his steering wheel tighter (knuckles nearly white) and forced himself to keep driving.

He just wanted to go home and cry his eyes out in comfort of his bed.

He wanted to cry his eyes out and forget Derek Hale ever existed in the first place.

However impossible a task like that is.

But Stiles was resilient and stubborn and he would get over Derek Hale if it was the last thing he did.

\---

Derek stayed down in the parking lot for another few minutes before slowly making his way upstairs again. 

When he entered the loft, Jennifer was sitting up in his bed wrapped in his bed sheet, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. Seeing her there, like that, reminded him of Stiles when he'd sometimes stay over. 

It reminded him of how adorable Stiles would look when he was suddenly woken up in the middle of the night and how Derek could never resist kissing Stiles when he looked like that. 

It reminded him that Stiles was the one that belonged in his bed. In his loft. And in his bed. 

Not Jennifer Blake.

"--okay?"

Jennifer's soft voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"You need to leave." 

"Wha--"

"Leave. Now." He was tired (still healing) and he was angry and he really didn't want to end up accidentally hurting Jennifer.

"But...I thought..."

" _Please_. Just leave. I need to be alone." _Because that's the only thing I deserve_.

"O-okay." 

Derek watches, detached, as Jennifer starts to redress. Occasionally she turns to look over at him but he does nothing and says nothing...just stands there with his arms crossed in front of him and stares. Soon she was dressed just as she was before everything (the short talk and the sex) happened, albeit a bit mussed.

"I...I hope to see you again." She smiles shyly at him as she walks past him. 

He watches as she pauses slightly, as if she wants to lean up to give him a kiss but, thinks better of it, and just leaves. 

The second the door slides shut Derek drops to the floor of his apartment and let's all the emotions he's been keeping mostly in check for the last few minutes (feels like hours) course through him.

Anger. Pain. Guilt. Despair. And a whole myriad of other emotions.

He was alone again. Just like he wanted.

He was alone and his only chance at possible happiness was gone. 

He had destroyed his _everything_ and he didn't know what to do.

He had broken Stiles' heart with one stupid, simple but stupid, act and broke his own world in the process. 

A single tear trailed down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://yourlifefrustratesme.tumblr.com)


	2. Downhill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this and liked it so much. And thank you for all the comments.
> 
> Since so many of you wanted more...here's more.

The next two days passed with no contact whatsoever between Derek and Stiles.

Derek stayed holed up in his loft, denying anyone who comes to his door access. Not Cora, not Scott or Isaac, and definitely not Peter. He didn’t want to see anyone, especially not people who have higher than human level senses. 

No. He spent the two days lying in his bed, staring at his ceiling, in a perpetual state of hopelessness. He hadn’t felt this way since the fire, and since hearing the news that Laura had died. He hasn’t slept since he had kicked Jennifer out, too heartbroken and too angry at himself. Every time he would close his eyes, he’d see Stiles with _that look_ on his face and Derek wanted nothing more to just claw his own heart out; guilty doesn’t even began to describe what he was feeling.

However, now it was two days later and Derek knew what he wanted to do. 

He needed to see Stiles.

He needed to explain.

\---

If anyone noticed that Stiles was different these last two days or so, they didn’t say anything. Most likely attributing Stiles’ sudden quietness to what had happened at the ‘suicide motel’ and not what the sight he’d witnessed inside Derek’s loft. Shaking his head lightly, Stiles pushed the image of an entwined Derek and Ms. Blake out of his mind as he made his way out of the school. He saw Ms. Blake enough during the school day that he really did not want to see her in his head as well. 

Stiles climbed in his jeep as fast as he could and pulled out of the school parking lot before anyone else can catch up to him. 

He didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Scott.

He quickly made his way home (his dad was out on shift) and parked his jeep before nearly running to his room. He really just wanted to be back in his bed, hugging his pillow (the one that still smelled like Derek) and cry some more. Yet, the universe seemed to against him.

There, sitting at his computer, was the last person Stiles wanted to see. 

Derek Hale.

Despite wanting nothing more that to hate Derek, Stiles could not help but take in the beauty that was the alpha werewolf. Judging by the amount of stubble (nearly a beard) that was on Derek’s face, it was clear that the alpha hadn’t bothered to groom himself since Stiles last saw him. But, even so Derek was devastatingly handsome with his hazel green eyes, dark hair, and broad shoulders. 

And now with him just _sitting_ there as if nothing had changed; as if Stiles hadn’t caught him in bed with his English teacher…Stiles wanted nothing more than to throw himself into Derek’s lap and just feel those strong arms around him. 

_No._

Stiles clung onto the door frame, half in support due to a sudden weakness in his legs and half as a physical restraint from actually jumping into Derek’s inviting lap.

The pain was still too fresh, the memories still swirling around inside his head. 

“Stiles.” Green eyes zeroed in on him and Stiles had to look away.

“Der—why are you here?” Stiles tried to steady his voice.

“I…I wanted to talk.” Derek starts, standing up and reaching forward, wanting to touch Stiles, to feel Stiles, only to abort the movement halfway; hand just hanging there in midair. “I wanted to explain.”

“ _Explain_?” Stiles exclaimed incredulously, anger suddenly filling his entire being. “You wanted to _explain_?”

Derek nodded.

“What is there to explain? I thought you were dead, but instead, you were sexing it up with my English teacher.”

“I almost did die…”

“Almost. You almost died…but you’re not dead.” Stiles wanted to cry but he settled for stalking towards Derek and with a raised fist, punched the werewolf square in the jaw.

Pain raced up his arm the second his fist made contact with Derek’s face, but Stiles ignored it. 

Derek, not expecting the punch, stumbled backwards but was otherwise unharmed. 

“You should have called.” Stiles went on. “You should have called to tell us you were alive. We’re pack, you’re our alpha, we deserved to know you were alive. _I_ deserved to know you were alive.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough.” Tears were beginning to well into Stiles’ eyes as he looked into Derek’s eyes. “While you were with Ms. Blake…did you even, for one second, think about what we were going through?”

“I—“ 

“You nothing. I almost died. Isaac almost died. Boyd almost died. And Scott? Scott nearly died _twice_.”

“ _What_?” Derek’s eyes flashed alpha-red as Stiles continued to rant.

“Wolfsbane had the betas hallucinating up a storm and I spent the entire night at some creepy-ass motel trying to keep everyone from not killing themselves. Boyd nearly _drowned himself_ in a bath tub and Scott? Scott was ready to set himself on _fire_. While you were tumbling around in bed with Ms. Blake, _I_ was stepping into a puddle of gasoline, ready to die with my best friend. My best friend who felt so guilty that you had died that he was ready to throw away his own life. And you want to know what I was thinking while I was putting my own life on the line, _again_? I was thinking how maybe, if I were to die, right then and there, that hopefully I would get to see _you_ again. My _last thought_ was _you_ …how stupid was I to think what we had…ever meant anything to you.”

By the time Stiles finished, he was panting and unsteady on his feet; his body rocking from side to side. 

Derek reached out to steady Stiles but was shoved back, hard. The shove propelled Stiles backwards and the teenage boy landed on his ass on the floor while Derek barely moved an inch. Instead of getting up, Stiles just stayed there, elbows propped up on his knees and head in his hands as tears began pouring out.

Once more, Derek tried to touch Stiles, but this time, Stiles’ wrecked voice stopped any further movement.

“Get out.” The words were soft but Derek’s enhanced hearing picked them up easily.

“Stiles…”

“No. I’m done. No more.” Stiles used on hand to gesture towards the door. “I can’t stand the sight of you.”

Eyes downcast, Derek leaves, for the first time, through the front door of the Stilinski house.

\---

 _”I can’t stand the sight of you.”_

Those words followed Derek all the way home and deep into the night. 

Stiles was serious when he said those words; not a single skip in his heartbeat. If Derek thought that the wounds inflicted by the alpha pack had hurt, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling right now. Without Stiles…Derek Hale was no one. 

He was nothing. 

He needed Stiles.

\---

Stiles heard the front door close but he didn’t move from his spot on the floor. 

He couldn’t even if he wanted to. 

His entire body felt weighed down and he felt like he was dying. And essentially, he was.

Stiles was dying, slowly, from the inside. 

There have been rumors of people dying from a broken heart and Stiles had always just waved it off as a myth, but now, Stiles was positive that is exactly what was happening to him at this very moment.

He was in love (he should hate Derek…but he just can’t) with a man that didn’t love him and his heart was being shredded into pieces because of his own stupidity.

Stiles Stilinski was and always will be, a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always up for suggestions of what people want to see happen in the story :D
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://yourlifefrustratesme.tumblr.com)


	3. Tumbling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered Ms.Blake talking about Romeo and Juliet during Motel California and this came to mind. 
> 
> I'm trying to aim for angst, angst, angst but unfortunately I'm not really in an angsty mood myself so...I hope this chapter turned out okay =D

After that little confrontation in his room, Stiles hardly saw Derek anymore. 

And Stiles is conflicted.

On one hand, he’s happy. It would hurt too much to see the older man and now, maybe— _just maybe_ —Stiles will be able to move on. Yet, on the other hand, not seeing Derek hurts just as much as it would if the alpha was standing in front of him right now. 

Sighing deeply, Stiles ran a hand through his grown-out hair before picking his backpack up off the floor of his room. It was time for school which means it was time for another day of Ms. Blake.

If he didn’t want to graduate so much, Stiles would have just skipped school altogether. But, no, Stiles wanted to graduate. Stiles wanted to move away from Beacon Hills and go somewhere far, far, far away from Derek Hale.

Far away.

\---

William Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_.

That was what they were reading for English this week, Ms. Blake happily announced as all the students filed into the classroom.

Stiles avoided any and all eye contact with the pretty English teacher and moved to take up a seat towards the back of the class only to be dragged into sitting next to Scott, towards the front.

 _Great_.

As class progressed, Stiles only half listened, staring off into space. He didn’t want to be here; he didn’t want to be sitting in class listening to Ms. Blake romanticize the actions of Romeo and Juliet while the only thing Stiles can think about is how she had ruined his life. 

“…Isn’t it romantic, class? Two people from rival families coming together under the power of love…” 

“They died.” Stiles blurted out before he could help himself. He was just so sick of listening to Ms. Blake talk about how grand a love story Romeo and Juliet was. Star-crossed lovers. He couldn’t help but think that she was talking about Derek and herself. He wanted to throw up. “They died. What’s romantic about that?”

“Oh…um…but they died for love.”

“But they still died. That isn’t love, it’s stupidity.”

He’s had enough. 

Standing up from his seat, Stiles ignored the looks cast towards him from his friends and teacher, he walked out. 

\---

“Dude! What’s wrong with you?” Scott asked him, slapping him on the shoulder as he sat down beside Stiles in the cafeteria. “You just _walked out_ of class.”

“I’m just not a big Shakespeare fan.” Stiles shrugged. 

The excuse was lame but Scott didn’t push and Stiles was immensely grateful for that. Lydia, however, was a different story. She was sitting a couple of tables away but was staring at him with a look in her eyes that clearly said: they needed to talk later.

Hopefully, later means never. 

Stiles doesn’t want to talk. Stiles feels like he’s just all out of talk. 

“…that _hickey_!”

Stiles turns towards the conversation happening right next to him between Scott and Isaac, having caught the last part of Isaac’s sentence.

“What?”

“Isaac says that he spotted this huge hickey on the back of Ms. Blake’s neck.” Scott relays to Stiles with a grin, not noticing the stricken look on his best friend’s face. 

“…oh.” 

Images are flashing through Stile’s mind, images that he doesn’t want and definitely does not need. Images conjured up by his runaway imagination that feels like multiple stab wounds to his heart. 

Derek and Ms. Blake kissing.

Derek and Ms. Blake taking off each other’s clothes.

Derek and Ms. Blake mapping out each other’s naked bodies while in Derek’s bed.

Derek’s bed where Stiles should be; where Stiles belonged. 

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Slapping a hand over his mouth, Stiles runs towards the nearest bathroom where he proceeds to vomit up what little he had in his stomach to begin with. In the end, Stiles ends up mostly dry-heaving and is very glad that Scott and Isaac didn’t follow him into the bathroom. They’d have too many questions and Stiles had too little answers.

\---

Derek is standing by the large window in his loft when a knock sounds against the metal of his door. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even sense anyone’s approach. However, he knows that whoever is behind the door, is not a werewolf; werewolves (or Stiles) usually just burst in without even the courtesy of knocking. 

As he approached the door, Derek’s sensitive nose was hit by a familiar scent…

…but not the one he wants.

“Jennifer.” He greets as he pulls back the door. 

There, in the dim hallway, stood Jennifer Blake with a shy smile on her face and a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“Derek. Hi.” She waves unnecessarily and waits for Derek to let her in. She expects Derek to let her in.

So he does.

He steps aside and lets the woman he cheated _with_ back into his loft. 

“What are you doing here?” Derek knows his words were cold and unkind but he really doesn’t care. 

“I-I just wanted to see how you were doing?” Jennifer stutters but recovers nicely. She turns around to face Derek and takes a step towards the alpha, and then another and another until she is stand barely a foot away from him. “Last I saw you, you were bleeding black goo…and I know when I left you were nearly all healed up but I still wanted to make sure. I was worried, and I haven’t seen you in a few da—“

“I’m fine.” Derek cut off Jennifer’s ramble with clipped words. Just hearing the teacher ramble reminded Derek of Stiles and how he could give an entire five minute speech on the awesomeness of Star Wars without ever taking a second breath…and it feels like his wounds were reopening all over again.

“Oh…good.” 

“You should go.” 

The door was still open behind Derek. 

“I—“

“—Should go.” Derek repeats his own words and turns his head away to avoid having to look at the hurt look on Jennifer’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m just not good company right now.”

“I’ve see you nearly dead and bleeding out,” Jennifer tries to joke. “I think I’ll survive.”

“I have things to take care of. Sorry.” This time, he gestures towards the door and finally, Jennifer seems to finally get it.

“Well, okay…I guess, next time then.”

Derek says nothing in return and he doesn’t turn back his head until he’s sure that Jennifer is out of the apartment. And he doesn’t move an inch from where he’s standing in the middle of his living room until he hears Jennifer’s Prius pulling out of the parking lot. 

He wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed, Derek moves to sit on the couch. His bed used to smell like Stiles but now it just smells like whatever detergent Derek uses to wash his sheets. 

After the last couple of days without the spastic teenager, Stiles scent was nearly none existent inside Derek’s loft. 

Yet another thing that has Derek wanting to howl in misery.

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten so many amazing suggestions from people and I'm so happy. My head is just running amok with plot bunnies. 
> 
> Please keep it up! I would love to hear everyone's opinion as to what direction this story should head in ♥
> 
> \--> So I can't quite figure out how to write Scott and the rest of the gang in yet...I just know that I will. Also, can't decide whether or not they knew about Stiles and Derek. Any thoughts?
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://yourlifefrustratesme.tumblr.com)


	4. Rock Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really just a filler (all conversations) and isn't as angst ridden as all the others. Really just my attempt to add in other cast members beside the main pairing.
> 
> I know I've been updating quite frequently these last couple of days but there are _absolutely_ no guarantees that this consistency will continue into the future. I'm leaving for China Tuesday night, so the number of updates will most likely drop a lot (idk what my internet situation will be when I'm there). 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy ♥

When Stiles walked out of the bathroom, lunch was long over and all the students were back in class. 

All the students except Scott. His best friend; his brother.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Stiles asks, trying to act as if he wasn’t just hunched over a school toilet throwing up his insides. 

“I’m taking you home.” Scott looked concerned, very, very concerned. His brows were furrowed and his lips were downturned, and Stiles hates that he was the one to put that expression there. 

“I’m fine, Scott. Probably just ate something that didn’t agree with me.” He tries to smile only to end up grimacing. 

He was doing a _spectacular_ job at throwing the other boy off his scent (pun intended).

“You barely ate anything at all.” Scott didn’t wait for any further argument from Stiles and proceed to practically drag the human out of the school. Upon sight of the blue jeep, Scott asked for the keys which Stiles handed over with minimal protests; he was suddenly just so exhausted.

Weird, how normally he had an unending supply of energy yet, now here he was…nearly completely depleted. 

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, Stiles leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. He was glad for the silence of the ride home. 

\---

“You’re pathetic.”

Derek was still lying on the beat-up blue couch in his loft when Peter strolled through the door. 

Peter was the first member of the pack to enter into the loft since before he nearly died. 

Before he _ruined everything_.

“What do you want?” Derek’s voice was hoarse from disuse. 

“I would have thought you’d be out celebrating your ‘not dying’ with Stiles instead of sitting here watching mold grow.” 

“Get out.”

“Aw, don’t be rude, nephew…I was merely stating a fact.” Peter smirked, looking around the empty loft. “Where is Mr. Stilinski, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do mind and don’t talk about Stiles.” Derek turned alpha-red eyes towards Peter which only caused the older werewolf to left out a low chuckle.

“Oh, no. Trouble in paradise?” 

“Leave, Peter. I don’t want to deal with you right now.” Had this been any other situation, Derek would have been advancing on Peter with a deep growl…now, though, he barely moved from his prone position on the couch.

There was also a tone of defeat in his voice.

Peter may be annoying at the best of times but even he knows when to stop pushing someone’s buttons; now was that time.

It was time to go.

“Later, Derek.”

\---

Stiles didn’t know when he fell asleep or even how he ended up in his own bed (he suspects Scott must have had something to do with the latter), but right now he was being woken up by someone pounding on his door.

“ _What_?” He yanked the door open, expecting Scott to be standing on the other side but was surprised to find that instead of his wolfy best friend, it was Lydia.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lydia asked, as direct and frank as ever.

“Gee, don’t beat around the bush or anything.” Stiles rolled his eyes before falling back onto his bed once more. Lydia, however, sat down more slowly, perching at the very edge of his mattress.

“Stiles, you’ve been moping around since we got back from that nightmarish motel.” 

“I nearly watched my best friend set himself alight, I think I’ve earned the right to mope. I’m still in shock.”

“That’s not it.” 

“What are you on about, Lydia?” Stiles turns to look at Lydia and immediately turned away at the worried look on her face. It was just like the one Scott had on earlier.

“You’re not talking as much. You barely eat at lunch.” Lydia starts and then stops…before dropping the bomb. “You’re acting like a heartbroken teenager, not someone in shock.”

Stiles swallowed. Of course Lydia would be the one to manage hitting the nail on the head on the first try. She was brilliant.

A part of Stiles wished he was still in love with Lydia…and not Derek. 

Unfortunately, the heart wants what the heart wants.

And his heart wanted Derek Hale. 

It still does.

“Me? Heartbroken?” Stiles pushes himself up into a sitting position so that he’s now looking Lydia in the eyes.

“Yes.”

“Only because I can’t have you.” Humor and deflection, that was always Stiles’ shield. 

“Oh, please, Stilinski. I know I act stupid but I wasn’t born yesterday.” Lydia tosses her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder before narrowing her eyes at the boy. 

“Lydia. This is me we’re talking about? Who’d want a relationship with a big-mouthed, hyperactive, spazz?” _No one, that’s who. Definitely not Derek._

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Standing up, Lydia moves to leave. “But I will find out.”

Stiles watches as the once-girl-of-his-dreams walks away and he is left alone once more. 

Alone and suffocating.

He looks down at his bed with its crumpled sheets and then looks across the room at his laptop. Taking a deep breath, Stiles knows what he wants to do.

This is his junior year, the year he starts to think about colleges. Before the cancelled meet, before catching Derek with Ms. Blake, Stiles was planning on attending a school closer to home…but now?

All he wants to do is leave. 

He doesn’t care if it seems as if he was _running away_ , all he knows is that he doesn’t want to stay in Beacon Hills any longer than he has to. 

Just over a year to go; over a year to spend as much time with his dad as he can before he’s gone. 

For the first time in a week, Stiles feels a small smile pulling at his lips. 

Yes.

He has a plan now. A new course in life that doesn’t revolve around Beacon Hills and its resident werewolf population. A new course that doesn’t revolve around dark, handsome, _strangers_ like Derek Hale.

Because that’s exactly what Derek is…a stranger. Someone Stiles thought he knew but didn’t really know anything about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still open for suggestions :)


	5. Onwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift! Because my brain twin was telling me to go write more while I was bouncing ideas off her. Two chapters in one day!
> 
> Enjoy.

If the sheriff found it weird that his son was suddenly bringing dinner over to the station every night he was working late, he didn’t say anything. Truthfully, Stiles was sure that his dad was just happy he wasn’t running around finding more dead bodies.

“I was thinking New York, dad.” Stiles says around a mouthful of curly fries. 

“New York? That’s pretty far away.”

“Hmm…” It wasn’t the best response but Stiles didn’t really know how to tell his dad that he was thinking about moving across the country because he’d recently got his heartbroken by his twenty-something werewolf boyfriend who cheated on him with his English teacher.

Yeah…no.

“If that’s what you want Stiles, you know you have my support.” The sheriff reaches out the hand without the fork to pat his son gently on the head. 

Stiles smiles.

He’s always been a handful, often times too much for his dad to handle all by himself, but it there was one thing he knows about his dad…it was that his dad loved him with all his heart. 

“Thanks, dad.”

\---

“You’re just going to leave me?” Scott pouts when Stiles shares with him his future plans.

“Not the puppy-eyes, Scott!” 

“You’re moving across the continent, I can do whatever I want.”

“New York is a bit far.” This time, it was Isaac who spoke up. 

The three of them were sitting in Scott’s bedroom with their textbooks open, studying. 

“I just want a change of scenery, that’s all.” Stiles shrugs; he doesn’t want to elaborate on why he was planning on moving so far away.

“Fine.” Scott is still pouting when he reaches into his book bag and pulls out a copy of _Romeo and Juliet_. 

Stiles’ heart stutters upon sight of that book but he ignores it, along with the strange look Isaac is throwing his way. No doubt the young beta had heard the small skip in his heartbeat. 

“This is the stupidest play ever about the stupidest people ever.” Stiles mutters as he flips open his own copy. 

He used to like English class, it was the one place he could let his ADHD fueled imagination run wild. However, now it was his least favorite class. Every time he sees Ms. Blake, his traitorous mind goes flying back to _that night_ and whatever small slice of happiness he managed to gather throughout the day just shatters into a million pieces.

He had to move on. 

But it was _so_ hard.

“I think it’s romantic.” Scott says dreamily. Of course, he’s thinking about Allison.

“There’s nothing romantic about two teenagers killing themselves, Scott.” Stiles punches Scott lightly on the arm.

“I agree with Stiles.” Isaac nods.

“They died for _love_.”

Scott was starting to sound like Ms. Blake, Stiles frowns.

“They _died_.” 

After that, the conversation came to a halt and everyone turned back to the book and began their reading assignment. They were already at the end of the play, and Stiles couldn’t be happier to be finally done with the book. No offense to Shakepeare or anything, but Stiles was sick of having his own failed relationship being thrown into his face every time he picked the book up; like it wasn’t enough that he had to see the _other woman_ every single day.

Almost a month later and it still hurt.

\---

It was now three weeks after Derek nearly died. Three weeks since Jennifer helped him into his loft. Three weeks since he slept with her. Three weeks after Stiles saw him sleeping next to Jennifer and three weeks since Stiles walked out of his life.

It has been three miserable weeks and finally things were starting to go back to normal. Normal…with the exception of Stiles.

When the teenage human had said he was done, he’d really meant it. Since then, Derek hasn’t seen hide or tail of Stiles and despite being the big-bad alpha, Derek was afraid to go see Stiles himself. 

Tonight, the pack was coming over to the loft. Although everything has been quiet since that night Ennis and Derek fell, there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that the Alpha’s wouldn’t want revenge. One of their packmates is dead and they’re going to want blood. More blood. 

When the pack arrives one by one, Derek is waiting for them standing facing the large windows. He doesn’t turn around until after the loft doors close, but before that he already knows that Stiles isn’t there. 

Of course not.

But he can’t help himself, he had to ask.

“Where’s Stiles?”

“He’s spending the night with his dad.” Scott answers, plopping down onto the floor next to Isaac. “The sheriff has the night off.”

Derek nods, ignoring the eyebrow lift from Peter. 

“Scott, you said Ennis was dead?” Time to get down to business, with or without Stiles. Derek had a feeling it was going to be without Stiles for a very long time and he couldn’t help the slight bolt of pain that shoot through his entire being at that thought.

“Ethan told us that…” 

Derek lets Scott talk and every once in a while Isaac or Boyd would pipe in with some other detail. The rest of the pack meeting goes about the same (everyone was throwing about ideas) until the moon was high up in the sky and it was time for everyone to head home. Derek doesn’t wait for everyone to leave before heading up the spiral staircase. He didn’t expect anyone to follow him but a minute later, Peter was there. 

“You know, I noticed something odd when I walked in tonight…” Peter starts. “It took me a bit to figure it out but…when was the last time Stiles was over here?”

Derek sighs. 

He and Stiles never hid their relationship from the pack, but they never outwardly announced anything. So far, no one has brought it up so Derek just assumed that no one knew; after all, the betas were still new to the whole werewolf thing and their senses aren’t always reliable. But, if anyone were to sense what was going on between Derek and Stiles, it would be Peter.

“His scent used to be _all_ over this place and now? Nothing.” Peter continues, as if waiting for Derek to interrupt him. 

“He’s gone.” 

“What did you do?” The elder werewolf may have been bat-shit crazy once upon a time but he wasn't an idiot. Derek on the other hand…the same can’t be said for the alpha.

“Something stupid.” Sitting down, Derek rests his elbows on his thighs and drops his head into his hands, he looked so defeated.

“Then fix it.” 

“I don’t know if I can.”

“This is why you don’t have nice things, Derek.” Peter sighs, starting his descend down the stairs. “You’ve got to learn to take better care of your things.”

“I know.” 

The words were whispered long after Peter had left the loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am loving all the ideas and suggestions everyone has been throwing at me! Thank you ♥
> 
> This story would have been nothing without you guys.


	6. Mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone starts reading this chapter...just as a warning, it's a bit of a mess.
> 
> However, I know it's been a while since my last update and being all the way in China has made my brain all fuzzy...
> 
> ...Anyways, enjoy.

Tonight was the first time Stiles has been out of the house for something other than school. Currently, he was in the supermarket doing some much needed restocking of the Stilinski kitchen. He figured, most kids his age wouldn’t be browsing the frozen foods aisle of their local supermarket on a Friday night…he knows for a fact that Scott and Isaac were doing something together.

So he thought it would be safe. No chance of running into classmates from school and definitely no chance of running into the last person he wants to see. Yet, as he turns the corner into the ice-cream aisle, there he is. Derek Hale in all his leather jacket clad glory.

If it were any regular person he was trying to avoid, Stiles would have turned around and walked away, however, Derek Hale wasn’t just any _regular_ person…he was a werewolf with heightened senses.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was soft, nothing like the tone he uses with other people. No, this was the tone Derek reserved just for Stiles.

It makes Stiles want to go running towards the alpha and surround himself with the other’s warmth.

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

Derek wasn’t his anymore. He was Ms. Blake’s now. 

The thought makes bile rise up in Stiles’ throat and tears prickle behind his lids. The thought makes him sick.

But, no. Stiles was bigger than this. He knew he couldn’t avoid Derek forever, that eventually, they’d run into each other (Beacon Hills was not a big town). Stiles wasn’t going to let the shadow that is Derek and Ms. Blake swallow him whole; he was going to _get over it_. 

“Derek.” Stiles doesn’t try and pretend to smile. He knows that’s not possible at this current point in time; maybe someday in the future he’d be able to look at Derek (think about Derek) and smile. Today was not that day, though.

“Stiles…how-how are you?” He stuttered. Derek stuttered because he was feeling…vulnerable? Guilty? Nervous?

Stiles mentally shakes himself. Whatever emotion Derek Hale is feeling is no longer any concern of Stiles. Not anymore.

_How was he doing?_ Derek asks, and Stiles wants to say, “How do you think I’m doing? I’m heartbroken, you bastard.” Instead, he says: “I’m…on the mend.”

“That’s…good.”

They stand there for a second or two but it feels like an eternity. Neither one speaks until Derek takes a bold step forward, one arm outstretched. Stiles immediately takes a step back and Derek freezes mid-step, arm dropping down to hang by his side.

Rejected. 

Stiles lifts one hand to wave half-heartedly before turning around and walking away. Before he leaves though, he sees Derek’s face fall. He had looked somewhat hopeful when Stiles had first seen him but now, as Stiles is walking away, he looks so _hurt_. 

More than anything, Stiles wants to go and comfort him.

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

Turning around would only end up shattering Stiles’ own heart even further, and he’s not going to put himself through anymore pain. Taking a deep, shuttering breath, Stiles forces himself to keep moving forward. Right foot, left foot, then repeat until he’s out the sliding doors and into his jeep, groceries forgotten.

\---

Derek watches as Stiles leaves. Again.

He wants to follow. Dear God, does he want to go chasing after the human boy. 

He wants to take Stiles, hold him close and never let him go. But, he doesn’t. He just stands there in the ice-cream aisle of the supermarket and watches as the love of his life walks away once more.

He waits there, still as a statue, until he hears the door of Stiles’ jeep slam shut and then peel out of the parking lot. It isn’t until Derek can no longer hear the jeep that he starts moving. Everything he does from that point on is nearly robotic in nature. He picks up the rest of what he needs and checks out. By the time he gets back to the loft, his head isn’t any clearer than it was when he first smelled the familiar scent of fresh grass and chemicals (adderall); Stiles.

Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. 

Derek is still thinking about Stiles when someone knocks on his door. 

\---

Sitting alone in his room, Stiles stares at the black screen of his turned off laptop. He should be doing homework (English homework) but instead, the only thing in his head is _Derek_.

It’s been at least an hour since Stiles got home sans groceries and no matter what Stiles tries to concentrate on; everything keeps coming back to Derek. He hurts. He hurts so much and a part of Stiles knows that Derek is hurting as well (he saw that today at the supermarket), but another part of Stiles is glad that Derek is hurting. Derek deserves to hurt for the pain he’s caused Stiles.

Stiles replays the events of the market for the umpteenth time in his head and comes to the same conclusion as before…he needs to find a way to not _fix_ but _patch_ things up between him and Derek. He was still going to be stuck in Beacon Hills for the next year and a half, and Scott was still his best friend and a werewolf…eventually he would see Derek again. 

He’s not going to take Derek back (he _can’t_ ) but he is going to slap a Band-Aid on his wounds and pray that it holds until he leaves for college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the comments and kudos, they make me super happy.
> 
> As always, open to suggestions =D


	7. Momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since the last update. I just really haven't been feeling this story very much lately. So, I'm not gonna make any promises that I know I won't be able to keep...but hopefully I'll be able to update sometimes within the next month or two. 
> 
> Anyways, here's the new chapter!

“Stiles.” 

Derek calls out even though he knew that the person on the other side of the door isn’t Stiles; he can’t help being hopeful.

He pulls open the loft door and before he even sees whoever it is, he already knows. The scent of flowery perfume cloying and suffocating with every breathe he takes. 

“Jen—”

“Derek!” Jennifer rushes in the second the gap was big enough to fit through. She throws herself at Derek, arms winding around his neck as she presses her body as close as possible to his. 

Derek tries to push her away.

She clings on tighter. 

With his werewolf strength he’d easily be able to push Jennifer away, but he doesn’t want to hurt her. 

“Jennifer.” He says her name, and it hurts; he doesn’t let it show. “Why are you here?”

She finally pulls back, although her arms are still around his neck.

“I’ve missed you.” She says and tries to kiss him.

Derek turns his head and with a slightly harder shove, he untangles himself from Jennifer’s grasp. He turns and walks away, ignoring the protests falling from Jennifer’s lips. He had just seen Stiles, and the still lingering scent in his nose is slowly being overtaken by the stench of Jennifer’s perfume. 

It was all too much. 

He doesn’t want to see her. 

He doesn’t want her scent to smother out Stiles’ scent.

She needs to leave.

“You need to leave.” He says, back to Jennifer.

“Wha—Why!?” He can imagine that she’s gaping incredulously at him. He doesn’t care.

He hears her footsteps as she comes up behind him, he feels her hand coming up to touch his back, and he flinches when her hands slid to a stop right above his triskele tattoo. 

“ _Leave_.” He chokes out, throat suddenly unbearably tight. 

“B-but I haven’t seen you in over a week.” Jennifer stutters out. She sounds hurt and confused, but Derek’s in too much pain himself to really care about hers right now.

“Just go.” 

“I—When will I see you again?” 

Derek doesn’t answer. 

He just stands there, facing the window, letting himself drown in the sunlight, and he feels nothing but cold.

He’s still standing there long after Jennifer has left, and long after the sun has gone down and the moon has risen. 

\---

“Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles hears his name being called as he walks down the near empty halls of Beacon Hills High.

He doesn’t acknowledge the voice. 

He knows who that voice belongs to and he really doesn’t want to talk or see _her_ , so he keeps walking. 

He keeps walking until an iron-like grip wraps itself around his wrist causing him to stumble to a stop mid-step.

“Wha—!” He exclaims and turns around, coming face to face with the last person he wants to see. Ever.

“We need to talk.” Ms. Bla—Jennifer says as she bodily pulls Stiles into the nearest empty classroom. 

“Look, Ms. Blake,” Stiles pulls his wrist away and places both hands, palms out, in front of his own chest. “If this is about me skipping class, I just haven’t really been feeling all that well.”

If his words sounded bitter, Jennifer doesn’t really seem to notice. 

“No…well, yes.” Jennifer shakes her head. “It’s about Derek Hale.”

Just hearing the name has Stiles to nearly fall over and his heart rate to rise exponentially.

“What—What about him?” _Please, please, please_ , he pleads internally. His eyes dart frantically around the room, looking for an escape route. He really, really doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now, especially not with her. 

He needs to get out.

“…know him, right?” Stiles tunes back in right at the end of Jennifer’s question.

“Know him?”

“Derek Hale? I’ve seen you hanging with him before.” Jennifer states, head tilted to one side in confusion. 

“I…yeah…” 

“Oh, good.” She sighs in relief and beams at him. “He and I are—sorry, I’m your teacher so I really shouldn’t be talking about this with you—but I just want to say that kind of know what _he is_ , you know. And you and him seems pretty close from what I’ve seen so I just wanted to—”

“Sorry!” Stiles shoves her away from where she’s standing in front of the door. “I—you’re wrong. Me and him aren’t close. I barely know him.”

And he’s out the door, running down the hallway and out the school. Distantly, he thinks he hears Scott calling his name but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop until he’s safely within his jeep with the engine running. 

He can feel a panic attack coming on. 

He’s breath is getting shorter and shorter with every intake. His head feels heavy and muddled. He can’t think straight and he realizes with a start that even his vision is getting fuzzy. He tries to keep his breathing as calm as possible, staving off the worst of the attack until he can get home.

He wants— _no needs_ —the safety of his bedroom. 

\---

Stiles doesn’t notice the sleek, black, and familiar Camaro parked a block away from his house, so he doesn’t realize that he’s not alone inside his house.

The second he’s through the door, it slamming close behind him, Stiles collapses on the ground as his panic attack comes on fully.

He can’t breathe.

With every breath he takes, he feels his lungs closing up more and more. He can no longer see straight, everything is fuzzy and tilted and…

…he feels like he’s dying. 

And for one moment, Stiles is ready.

He’s ready to just stop breathing and die.

Maybe then the constant band squeezing his heart will release and he’ll no longer feel the pain.

For one moment, Stiles is ready to just give in. 

The next moment, strong arms are wrapping themselves around him and he’s being pulled into a familiar embrace. But he’s too busy trying to breath to really take notice.

Then a pair of lips falls upon his and the shock of kissing someone shakes him out of his panic attack. The lips are familiar, just like the arms around him and unconsciously, Stiles starts leaning into the kiss, lips moving of their own accord. 

Once he was finally able to breathe normally again, the last remnants of the attack leaving his body, Stiles seems to realize that he was kissing Derek.

Derek, who is here right now. 

Derek, who is holding him.

Derek, who is kissing him.

Derek, who broke his heart.

Derek.

“Derek!” He gasps as he shoves himself out of the other’s lap and embrace. “What are you doing here!?”

“Stiles, I—” Derek hesitates, seemingly not knowing how to say what he wants to say. A common occurrence.

“You need to leave my house.” Using the front door as a crutch, Stiles pulls himself on to his feet. He shoves away the hand Derek reaches out in support and pulls the door open.

“I just want—”

“ _I_ just want you to leave.” Seeing Derek just reminds him of his earlier conversation with Jennifer Blake. “I can’t look at you right now.”

He leaves the door open, and walks past a frozen-in-place Derek and up the stairs to his room.

He’s huddled on his bed when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs, and he tenses, waiting for his door to open and Derek to come inside. 

That doesn’t happen. 

There’s a rustle outside his bedroom door and then footsteps walking down the stairs. Then the front door slams close; Stiles lets out the breath he’s wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. 

Stiles stays in bed until he’s sure Derek wasn’t coming back before moving to open his door. 

There, tucked into the small space between his door and the frame is a small, white piece of paper with two simple sentences written on it.

__

_I want you back._

_I’m not giving up._

Back in his room, Stiles realizes that all the material he’d printed for out-of-state colleges are nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope there's still people reading this, haha. But thank you for all the comments and kudos, past and future ones ♥


	8. Advancement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly a year since I last updated and I apologize to anyone who is still reading this story. Grad school is killer and although Sterek is still my OTP but my muse didn't seem to share my love of Derek and Stiles. 
> 
> Well, there's really not much else to say except I'm sorry, once more. 
> 
> Now...back to the story.

Weeks passed since Stiles’ panic attack and thankfully, hasn’t had another one. 

He’s come close, though, a couple of times. The only thing that brought him back from the edge was the though to coming ever closer to the day he’d finally be able to escape this hell hole that is Beacon Hills; that was his home. 

Now, Beacon Hills felt suffocating. 

It used to feel like a safe haven, despite the numerous “animal attacks”, but that’s changed. 

It was because of Derek.

It was because of Ms. Blake.

It was because no matter how hard Stiles tried to avoid seeing either of them, he couldn’t. 

Every day in school, he had to see Ms. Blake with her happy little smile and cheery disposition, standing there as if she wasn’t the reason that part of Stiles is dead. And after school, although he doesn’t actually _see_ him, Stiles knows that Derek is always watching. He can feel the alpha’s eyes on him and he can also tell because occasionally Scott would make a few comments about what a creeper Derek was being. 

But worst of all, he sees them, together, just like that night in Derek’s loft, whenever he closes his eyes. It’s been months since that night and still, the memory of it haunts him. 

Yet, Stiles is strong. He has to be. No matter how much he wants to just _end everything_ , he doesn’t. 

He couldn’t do that to his dad, to Scott, to the people that mattered. So he keeps on living, dreaming of the day he is able to leave it all behind. 

\---

Contrary to popular belief, Stiles is actually quite smart. 

Yes, he doesn’t look like it. He’s spastic and clumsy and has the attention span of a gnat, but he is actually rank second at school. Right behind Lydia Martin. 

So, really, when he informed his dad that he was planning on graduating early, in December instead of June, his dad wasn’t surprised. He did look sad, but that was to be expected. 

And it hurt to see his dad upset, but Stiles also saw the pride in the Sheriff’s eyes. 

That made him feel fractionally better. 

The pride blossomed though, surpassing the sadness when Stiles continued with the news that he got accepted early into NYU, and with a full ride. No sooner had the news left his mouth, his dad was pulling him in for a big hug. 

“Congratulations, Stiles.” His dad says as he pulls back, face practically split in half his smile was so wide. “I never doubted that you’d get it.”

“Really?” He was smiling too, and _God_ it felt good to be able to do that again. 

It’s been forever since the last time he smiled; a smile with real happiness behind it. He couldn’t even remember when the last time was, it’s been so long. 

(that’s a lie. he remembers. it was back before everything started going downhill and his life was thrown off balance. it was when he was still with derek and he thought they would last forever. he remembers, but he wishes he didn’t, so he pretends that he doesn’t.)

“I have to tell Scott.” He tells his dad, who says nothing but hands him a box of tissues. 

Stiles looks down at it in confusion.

The sheriff simply smiles and says: “You know Scott will start crying. And then you’ll start crying. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

Stiles lets out a short laugh and goes in for another hug from his dad before leaving to drive to his best friend’s house. 

\---

Because Stiles and Scott has been friends for so long, it wasn’t unusual for Stiles to simply walk into the McCall residence without even bothering to knock. 

He knows that Melissa isn’t home, having been assigned to work the late shift at the hospital for the week, and he’s glad that once he’s inside the house that Isaac isn’t there either. It was just Scott, sitting at the kitchen table, actually attempting to do the Chemistry homework. 

“Where’s your wolfy bff, Scotty?” Stiles asks, plopping down in the empty seat across from Scott. 

“Isaac is…you…” Scott looks up from his book and his eyebrows furrow further in confusion. Stiles understands why though, it’s been so long since Stiles has acted even remotely like his old self. “look happy.” 

“That’s because I’ve got good news, buddy!” He beams, pushing the box of tissues his dad gave him across the table at Scott.

“Since when does good news need tissues?”

Stiles ignores the question and forges on. He knows that although for him its great news, for Scott, it may very well be the worst news. So he just lets it all out, in one breath.

“ImgraduatingearlyandIgotearlyacceptanceintoNYU.” 

“You—what?”

“I’m graduating in two weeks and I got into NYU.”

“You’re leaving?!” Scott is standing now, looming over the table. 

“Scotty, buddy, I told just months ago that I was thinking about New York for college.” 

Whatever the potential fallout was, Stiles was ready. He wasn’t going to change his mind just because he had to leave Scott behind…and the thought of that did hurt, but the alternative would hurt more. Stiles needed to leave Beacon Hills and everything that has happened here.

Stiles needed to leave Derek far, far, _far_ , behind. 

“But I thought that would be _next Fall_ , not _now_!” And there is was, Scott was reaching for the tissues just like the sheriff had predicted, and Stiles could feel his own eyes prickling with tears. 

“I’ll visit, or you can come visit me.” Stiles is standing and rounding the table so fast, he would have put Scott’s werewolf enhanced speed to shame, and gathered his best friend into his arms. “Think of all the fun we’d have in New York.”

“…yeah..o-okay.” Scott is smiling, despite the tears, now.

“I wouldn’t just forget about you, Scott.” Stiles smiles back. 

\---

“New York?” Stiles has just gotten home from Scott’s not even ten minutes and here Lydia was, standing on his door step, hands propped up on her curvy hips. 

“Hello to you, too.” He lets her in.

“Were you planning to tell me or were you just planning on sneaking off in the middle of the night?”

Ah. She’s glaring now.

“Actually, I was thinking after graduation and most likely in the morning…actually, the afternoon. Who wakes up before noon during Winter break?” Stiles jokes, but Lydia does not look amused. Not even the tiniest bit. 

“I—I was going to tell you! I swear!” Stiles exclaims, falling onto the couch and turning to Lydia with an over exaggerated pout. “But I only found out about NYU today.”

“You should have told me when you’d applied!” She swats him in the back of the head and then sits herself down next to him and pulls him into a hug.

“Lyd—”

“I can’t believe you’re letting _him_ chase you across the country.” She says into his neck, where she’s buried her face. 

“D—He’s not…that’s not…” Stiles stops. 

Because Lydia isn’t wrong. Derek is the main reason why he is leaving Beacon Hills, but getting to live in New York is also great incentive. So Stiles is using that as motivation. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” Lydia says, barely audible.

Stiles laughs, edged with just a touch of hysteria. Just an insignificant touch, but there nonetheless.

“I wish you’d have noticed I existed before…” He doesn’t continue and he doesn’t need to because Lydia _gets it_. She pulls him in further and hugs him tighter. 

He returns the hug in equal amounts.

Two weeks.

In _two weeks_ Stiles Stilinski was leaving behind Beacon Hills.

He was leaving behind his dad, his best friend, his first love, and his first broken heart. 

He was leaving behind the werewolves and the hunters and everything else supernatural.

He was leaving behind Derek Hale and Jennifer Blake.

He was going to start fresh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if anyone is still reading this, but thank you to anyone who is ♥
> 
> comments are love!


	9. Big Apple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to apologize for taking FOREVER to update this story. I've not given up on it--although it was a near thing, I have to admit. To the people who left encouraging comments on my author's note, I want to thank you guys so much! This new chapter does not in anyway mean that there will be regular updates anywhere in the near future. Again, sorry!
> 
> But, I hope you like it :D

Stiles is ready.

Stiles is anxious.

He’s made his decision and he’s sticking with it. He can’t want to be in New York, and the new adventures he’ll no doubt have there. He’s excited to be going to somewhere that’s bigger than little old Beacon Hills. 

But now that the day has finally approached, Stiles could feel some hesitation setting in. 

Tomorrow, he’ll be getting on a plane and flying across the country. For the first time in his life he’ll be away from everyone and everything he grew up with, and dear God he was a bundle of nerves right now. He doesn’t regret his decision; no, if there was one thing Stiles was certain, it was that he _needed_ to leave Beacon Hills and all its troubles behind. But the thought of being so far from Scott and his father and all on his own is kind of scary. 

They’ve promised to visit as soon as they get a chance, though. He’ll have to be content with that for now. 

God. 

By this time night tomorrow, he’ll be in his new dorm room at NYU, and Beacon Hills and _Derek_ will be just a thought in the back of his head. 

Sighing, Stiles flings himself bodily onto his bed, face up towards the ceiling. As nervous as he is about leaving, the excitement of New York—the relief of being away from everything that is a constant reminder of Derek, Derek, Derek—wins over his anxiety. 

\--- 

“You’ll call the second you land, you hear?” The sheriff commands more than says. 

He’s hands are gripping Stiles’ upper arms so tight, it’s bound to leave a mark of some sort. Stiles isn’t complaining though. He’ll miss his dad so much. He’ll miss Scott, too. Scott, who Stiles told to stay home today. There was only so much manly tears Stiles could take after all. 

“Yeah, dad,” He says, getting a little teary eyed. He was man enough to admit that. “I got it.”

“I’ll miss you, son,” Loosening his grip, the sheriff pulls Stiles into the big hug he can manage. He conveys everything he wants to say but doesn’t have time to say into it. “I love you.”

“Me, too, dad. Me too.”

“Be safe.”

“You, too.” 

Father and son separated, albeit slowly and reluctantly. It was time. Stiles still has to go through security and find his boarding gate. It was time to go.

“Bye, dad.”

“Bye, son.”

Stiles starts to walk away. If he didn’t, it’ll only get harder the longer he’s in his dad’s presence. However, he walks backwards so that he can keep his dad in his sights. The sheriff just stands there and watches. He has a proud smile on his face, but there was also sadness in his eyes; the same sadness that’s no doubt reflected in Stiles’ own. 

Just before he joins in the line for security and loses sightline of his father, Stiles calls out: “And eat your veggies! Don’t think I won’t know if you don’t. I have eyes EVERYWHERE.”

The words do as they’re supposed to, it alleviates the sadness a little and his dad laughs. 

That was the last image of his dad Stiles takes with him on his journey: the sheriff, with his head thrown back, laughing.

\--- 

New York is so very different from Beacon Hills. Everything was fast paced and bustling. It seems as if nothing is or can stand still for more than a second.

And Stiles feels right at home. 

Standing on 5th avenue right outside of Rubin Hall, Stiles, for the first time in what feels like forever, feels like he can really breathe again. He has his phone out and the email with his room assignment pulled up. 

He was ready to start the newest chapter of his life. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles pushes through the doors of the residence hall and makes his way to the front desk. The staff member—a fellow NYU student—gives him some general information about the dorm before directing him to the correct floor and room number. 

5th floor; Room 512.

Stiles is able to find it easily enough. 

Inside was relatively clean, the expected clutter just makes it look lived in. It was homey and Stiles liked it. 

The dorm itself is a suite style with its own bathroom that Stiles will be sharing with his other roommates; his 3 other roommates. Luckily, Stiles only has to share his actual room with one other person. Overall, it was pretty sweet!

His bed is empty as is his side of the room. There’s the generic desk, chair, twin sized bed with its bare mattress, and no personal touch whatsoever…yet. The boxes that he’d shipped out from Beacon Hills won’t arrive until tomorrow, but Stiles brought his pillow and sheets and several changes of clothes with him on the plane. 

So he goes about making the bed. At least it’ll make the room just a touch more personal.

Afterwards, Stiles sits on his bed and looks over at his roommate’s side of the room. Whoever Stiles is sharing this room with, he’s clean. Everything was neatly put away. It was well lived in, but sparsely decorated. There were hardly any pictures of people hanging on the wall or sitting on the desk. In fact, the only remotely personal items Stiles can see is the picture of a moonlit skyline of some metropolis and, oddly enough, a stuffed animal—a _dog_?—with a chain and pendent of some sort hanging around its neck. 

It’s the stuffed toy that holds Stiles’ attention the most.

Unable to curb his curiosity, Stiles ventures for a closer look. It wasn’t a dog…no…it was a _wolf_. His roommate has a stuffed wolf sitting on his bed. Stiles shakes his head to calm his active imagination and reaches out one hand to bring the pendent closer for viewing. 

Before he could get a really good look at what was etched onto it, the door to the room is throw open and whoever is standing at the door—his roommate no doubt—is…

… _growling_?

Stiles drops the pendent as if it’s on fire and spins around to look at his supposed roommate. 

He was handsome, if commonly so, and tall with broad shoulder, short russet hair, and a fairly nice jawline. But what really has Stiles’ breath catching in his chest are the guy’s eyes. They were a very familiar glowing gold. 

_Seriously!? What the fuck!?_

“Seriously!? What the fuck!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that this chapter is a bit of a filler chapter than anything else, but I'm relatively happy with it, so I decided to post it.
> 
> Comments are love! ♥
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://yourlifefrustratesme.tumblr.com)


	10. Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: this update is a rare occurrence and regular updates should not be expected. Sorry.
> 
> Anyways, I was in the mood and class was BORING. So, here's another chapter :D

“How is this my life!” 

Stiles threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. He couldn’t believe it. He had moved away from Beacon Hills—across the whole damn country—to get away from werewolves (Derek) only to move in with one. Sometimes Stiles can even believe his own bad luck. 

_Fuck. His. Life._

“Don’t touch my stuff.” Stiles’ new _werewolf_ roommate growls, stalking forward to snatch up the stuffed wolf from the bed. He cradles it against his chest and curled away from Stiles. 

“You’re a werewolf.”

“I—what?” The guy went from anger to adorable confusion in less than a second as he stared at Stiles with wide eyes that have since turned from gold to a clear blue. 

“Werewolf?” Stiles repeats himself, waving a hand in the general direction of the guy’s face. “The glowing gold eyes sorta gave it away. Which, just so you know, probably shouldn’t go around showing them to random strangers.”

“…Right…” 

The guy wasn’t saying much of anything, only staring at Stiles like he had two heads, a look that Stiles is extremely familiar with. In fact, most of the werewolves Stiles is acquainted with stare at him with the exact same look on a regular bases. 

“I’m Stiles. Stilinski.” He introduced himself. “By the way.”

“…You parents named you _Stiles_?” 

“My parents named me something unintelligible.” Stiles shrugs. It’s the truth.

“Wait. So you know about werewolves?” His roommate finally asks, plopping down on his own bed, still holding onto his little wolf toy. “How?”

“Ran with some, until I didn’t.” Werewolves, especially those in Beacon Hills and under Derek’s alpha-ship is not a topic of conversation Stiles wants anything to do with right now. He knows he may have come off as a bit rude to his yet-unnamed-roommate, but thinking about Derek still hurts a little. 

New York was supposed to be his healing place. A new haven.

Why Stiles didn’t think there would be werewolves in New York was beyond him. 

He really should have expected it though. Just didn’t expect it to be sort of slammed in his face like _this_. 

His new roommate seemed to realize that Stiles wasn’t up to talking about this and luckily he dropped it. Leaning forward across the space between their beds, he extended his hand.

“Lucas Butler.”

They shake hands. Stiles smiles, only a little strained.

\--- 

Lucas turns out to be pretty cool. After their not-so-great first meeting, the two have gotten on fairly well. Although Lucas is a private person, understandable since he’s got one hell of a secret, he’s also very friendly. He actually offered to show Stiles around and point out the best spots to hang out for the average poor college student budget. 

That’s how they found themselves sitting outside the Met after having gotten food from one of New York City’s numerous food trucks, and just chatting away. 

As expected, Lucas is able to pack away more food than any regular person could. 

“God, I think I’m in _love_.” Stiles moans around another bite full of his grilled cheese. “This is heaven.”

“Should I leave the two of you alone?” Lucas asks, looking around them. There were only a couple of people staring in their direction; after all, this was New York and weird people/things have been known to happen. 

“Hmm…maybe. Maybe.”

Shaking his head, Lucas laughs. It was a nice laugh, carefree and just plain happy. It’s been so long since Stiles has been around people who weren’t stressed out over when the next supernatural monster attack would occur. 

He definitely made the right choice. He could really get used to this. 

“So, first time college student,” Lucas says. “there’s a party tonight at Greenwich Hall, you up for it?”

“Party?”

“Free booze and loud music and drunk idiots. It’ll be fun.”

“When in college, right?” Stiles nods enthusiastically. 

If the party is anything like the ones Stiles has seen on TV and in movies, it should be an awesome night followed, no doubt, by a morning full of regrets. 

Sounds perfect, actually.

\--- 

It was still relatively early by the time Stiles, Lucas, and the other two guys he’s sharing a suite with (Michael and Javier-call-me-Javi) arrived at NYU’s Greenwich Hall dorms. However, there was already music playing and several people walking around with the classic red plastic cups.

Stiles trails after his roommates and nods in greeting whenever he’s introduced to new people. So far, everyone is pretty nice; there were a hand full of people who were already well on their way to being drunk of their asses. Stiles doesn’t know whether to be horrified by that or impressed. 

Clearly some people were pre-gaming like champs. 

Curious by nature, Stiles is looking left, right, up, and down, his brain working a mile a minute just trying to take in his surroundings. He’s so distracted by _everything_ that he barely acknowledged Lucas shoving a plastic cup into his hands until he actually takes a sip from it. 

And then the rest of the night continued in a blur of music, red solo cups, and even some dancing (read: flailing). 

But Stiles has to admit, for his first ever college dorm party, it was going pretty well. 

People—strangers—were coming up to Stiles and there was a lot of flirting going around. It was nice. Other than Derek, no one in Beacon Hills really seemed to look at Stiles as anything other than the Sheriff’s weird ADHD kid. 

…And speaking of flirting.

A tall, average-muscled guy sidles up to the door frame Stiles is currently resting next to. He leans against the green colored frame and smiles smolderingly in his direction. After several drinks in, Stiles is already feeling the buzz of alcohol, and this new stranger is very nice looking. 

“I’m—” 

“Hot.” Stiles blurts out. Thank you, brain-to-mouth filter, thank you.

The stranger laughs, head thrown back.

“And you’re cute.” He steps closer, crowding Stiles further into the wall.

The guy certainly doesn’t waste any time, that’s for sure. Before Stiles can even wrap his brain around what is happening, the guy has one hand braced next to his head and the other on his hip. The guy’s lips were also touching Stiles’ own. It was less touching and more devouring, to be honest, as the blond stranger licks his way into Stiles’ mouth.

Surprised, Stiles froze, though not for long, eagerly returning the kiss. 

He wrapped his arms around the strangers and pulled him closer. He was taller than Stiles, but not much broader.

Nothing like...No.

And the kiss was also different. D— _No_.

Stiles wished he was kissing Der— _No!!!_

Pushing the guy away with as much force as Stiles could muster at that moment, he ignores the other boy’s disgruntled complaints as he hunched forward to catch his breath, hands braced on his knees. Stiles doesn’t even notice, nor does he care, when the blond walks away. Nope. He has his eyes closed and the only image he’s seeing is that of Derek.

_Goddammit_. Everything was going so well, too. 

But no Stiles wants nothing more than to just go back to his room and bury himself under the comforter. 

Stick a fork in him, he’s so done for the night. 

Stiles fights his way out of the party and makes his way back to 5th Ave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you don't want Stiles to be hooking up with the first person he sees...well...sorry?
> 
> Comments are love ♥
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://yourlifefrustratesme.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](http://yourlifefrustratesme.tumblr.com)


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